


Wilted Rose

by The_Writer_Ghost



Series: Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Markiplier Egos, Markiplier YouTube, Markiplier fandom - Fandom
Genre: Dark does as best he can, Dark-centric, Darkiplier - Freeform, Darkstache - Freeform, Dr. Iplier (Mentioned) - Freeform, Established Relationship, First prompt in a long series, Fluff, I am inexperienced with tagging, M/M, Marvin the Magnificent (mentioned) - Freeform, Nothing naughty, WKM The Mayor Damien (mentioned), Wilford is a sweetheart, Yandereplier: Mako Fujiba (mentioned), change my mind, garden, gardening is hard, white roses, wilford warfstache - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 19:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15647361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Writer_Ghost/pseuds/The_Writer_Ghost
Summary: Dark wanted to do something for his anniversary with Wilford. (I suck at summaries, and I didn't wanna give the story away)WILTED ROSE, first prompt in a LONG list I've created for myself because I love torturing myself





	Wilted Rose

**Author's Note:**

> So first published work on this site.  
> If you find any errors message me and I'll see if I can fix it.  
> Headcanon name for Yandereplier (I will be using this name for him in all my works)  
> Have any questions feel free to contact me.  
> The dialogue for Dark and Wilford is written in the best way I could think of to imitate their speech.
> 
> Enjoy^^

**Wilted Rose**

_Writing Prompt #1_

_~~~_

 

Dried-up leaves and stems crunched beneath his feet. Seemingly overnight all the white roses had wilted. Dark’s shoulders sunk in a defeated sigh as he took in the garden of death before him. What could he possibly have done wrong? These had been magical roses, according to Marvin. The septiceye-ego had assured the demon that these roses would bloom in a day and stay in bloom until you decided to let them wilt. So why in the name of the **Nothing** was he now standing there, out by the greenhouses surrounded by brown dried leaves and wilted shrivelled roses?

Kneeling on the soil, it felt cold and dead under his knees, Dark broke off a sprout. It rotted away between his fingers, leaving only a crumbled stem with a twisted bud at the end, it didn’t even resemble a rose. Of course, he should have known. It was always him, wasn’t it? That cursed aura of his had managed to drain the life even out of magical everlasting roses. This was why he had, decades ago decided to never pursue hobbies that involved living things. They died. They always died.

Maybe there was something poetic about it all. A dead man standing in a garden of wilted roses. Dark didn’t appreciate the symbolism.

 

Had this merely been a hobby meant to replace boredom, he wouldn’t have taken the failure to heart, but this garden hadn’t been for him. This date marked the tenth year of his and Wilford’s relationship. How the two had managed to not throttle the other by now was a miracle onto its own. They had had their differences and arguments, which Dr. Iplier had assured was normal for couples, but overall their relationship had managed to be wonderful. They each brought forth something from the other that they seemed unable to reach on their own. Wilford managed the unthinkable: making Dark kinder, more patient and a touch more empathic of his fellow egos. Dark on his end was able to calm Wilford’s mania, ground him. He had gotten less and less likely to have his manic episodes along with sticking his revolver into everyone’s face. This arrangement, unexpected as it might have been had turned out to be beneficial not only to them, but also for the rest of the iplier-ego’s.

At times Dark had pondered over how someone so wholly different from himself could make for the perfect match. After all, they were with certainty the textbook definition of ‘counterparts’. Wilford, with his vibrant, borderline flamboyant pink hair, curled moustache and bowtie. Bubbly, outgoing and eccentric. Dark, in contrast had his black curls that always partially hid one equally black eye, menacing glare, black suit and the aura that drained colour out of things around him. Cold, calculating and stern. Two men as far on each side of the spectrum as you’d get and somehow it seemed unthinkable to find someone who complimented Dark more than Wilford Warfstache.

With a discontent groan, his spine protesting with an audible crack, Dark stood. His back continued it’s wailing as he rolled his shoulders and neck hoping to release some of the building tension. He wasn’t one to prolong a losing battle. He simply couldn’t win; the roses would never grow. On the other hand, he hated wasting useable space. Maybe he could give the garden space to Mako. The yandere-ego had mentioned at dinner a few weeks ago how he wished to _“hone his skills with a shovel”_ so the younger ego would probably be delighted to have it.

 

 There was a faint smell of cotton candy in the air. It quickly replaced the unpleasant scent of dead flora.

    “Well, well. Whaaat is it we haaave here, hmm~?”

Wilford’s familiar draw came from behind him. Right behind him. Dark could feel the other’s aura against his back and his lips brushing the shell of his ear. Wilford tended to forget doors existed and would just poof into whatever room he desired. The concept of personal space seemed to also allude him.

**_“It’s nothing, Wil.   Unused garden space  that is  all. I thought   mayhaps Mako could have   use of-“_ **

    “Buut, whaaat aaboouut thoose rooses?” Wilford wondered, placing a hand on each of Dark’s shoulders, turning the demon around to face him. He didn’t seem at all concerned with having interrupted his partner. Dark took notice of the silky, bright pink, satin shirt Wilford was wearing. It screamed Disco and pink afros on volumes not safe for human ears.

Dark had half a mind to remark that this shirt, while it suited Wilford quite well, wasn’t exactly the fancy attire fit for the occasion he had mentioned two weeks ago. Wilford would undoubtedly pout at him and state that the shirt was perfect so for now he’d let it slide.

    “Woouuld be aa reaal shaame tooo juust teaar’em aall uup, dooon’t yoouu think, Daarki?”

**_“It  doesn’t matter, Wilford.  They have  all wilted.”_ **

A furrow appeared between Wilford’s eyebrows as he studied his significant other. He put some weight onto Dark’s shoulders. “Dooon’t yoouu saaay thaaat. Yoouu looove this garden. I’m suure it isn’t aaas baad aaas yoouu think~.” Wilford assured with confidence and a pat.

Dark shook his head. Despite his ups and downs, Wilford’s optimism never failed him. If there was even the slightest chance of a positive outcome, trust Wilford Warfstache to find it.

 

Something Wilford had said struck him. Wilford had claimed he loved this garden. That didn’t seem to quite add up. Dark had only made this garden last night. There were two options. Either Wilford had slipped a glance into the future, a future that seemed very unlikely seeing as all the roses had rotted away. Alternatively, he recalled, somehow that Damien had once had a rose garden in his youth and how fond he had been of it. Come to think of it, maybe that was where Dark had gotten the idea.

“AAAHHAA!” The triumphant exclamation came from out among the dead plants. Wilford was kneeling on the soil, careful not to step on any of the obviously decayed flowers. Dark hadn’t noticed him walking over, but by now he was aware of Wilford’s ability to just appear wherever he pleased, seemingly in the blink of an eye. And admittedly he had been lost in thought.

    “I waaas right, they aaaren’t aall deaaad.” There was a small, blooming bud in his hand. It had been just as dead as the rest of the plants mere moments ago, Dark swore it. It was fully bloomed now, bright white with a pink hue at the edge of each petal. Wilford snapped the stem; the rose was still alive and thriving. His face had the brightest of smiles.

    “See! There is still hoope fooor yoouur looovely gaaarden, Daark.”

The smile was contagious, even Dark couldn’t resist it. The bright pink aura Wilford exuded had rejuvenated the poor flower. Now, that was the kind of symbolism Dark liked.

            **_“It appears I was  m i s t a k e n.”_**

“Yes, yoouu were. Shaaame ooon yoouu Daark. Giving uup ooon such beaauutifuul rooses.” Deep brown eyes studied the demon’s clothing. “Yoouu knooow thaat tuux looks really daashing ooon yoouu. It is missing something thoouught.” Wilford gracefully jumped back over to the gravel path between the roses. Reaching his partner Wilford attached the rose to Dark’s rarely used tuxedo jacket. Giving the otherwise black and white get-up some colour.

Wilford looked him over, smiling content with his contribution. “Perfect. Juust aaas I suuuspected~.” His dimples got more visible as that brilliant I-have-been-in-showbiz smile grew. “Yoouu looook pooositively looovely, Daarkling.” His eyes continued to roam. “I quuuite like it with yoouur haaair smoooothed baack like thaaat.”

 

Wilford’s brown eyes softened as he focused all his attention on Dark’s face. A faint glimmer of the man he had ones been flickered in them. Slowly he trailed his fingertips along Dark’s stubbled jawline, coming to a halt under his chin, his thumb moving lazily across the demon’s chilled lower lip. None of them seemed to breathe for those seconds. The world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.

Then Wilford blinked, efficiently breaking his own spell. “Saadly the fuuun will haave tooo waaait.” he cooed, letting his hand slip from Dark’s face and settle around his waist. “Ten yeaaars. Reaaally flies by in aaa heaaartbeaaat, doooesn’t it?” It was outright impossible to stop smiling.

The smile that now stretched Dark’s lips mirror Wilford’s. **_“If we’re   not careful   fifty will have passed  us by  before we know it.”_**

Wilford’s arm adjusted at his waist, gripping him tighter. “I’ll haaave tooo be ooon guuaard then.” Dark silently hoped that glint of playfulness never left Wilford’s eyes. It would be such a dark day.

“Let’s get goooing shaall we?”

A nod of confirmation from Dark was all he needed before they vanished in a puff of bright pink smoke, the trademark of Wilford’s ability to teleport.

In the wake of their departure the rose garden stood in full bloom. Every rose pure white with a pink gradient to each petal.


End file.
